


The Secret History of Launchpad McQuack

by SaintJudith



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boardwalk Scene, Gen, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Might Solve A Mystery, Negaverse (Disney), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Puke Mention, S.H.U.S.H.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintJudith/pseuds/SaintJudith
Summary: Launchpad is happy with his life at McDuck Manor. Taking care of the travel needs of Scrooge McDuck and family. But sometimes he feels like he is missing something. Like he used to do something more but he just can’t remember...





	1. Chapter 1

The night was still on Avian Way, St Canard, Calisota. The street empty, the houses dim. All except for one where a young duck sat with a small light on as she waited for her father’s return. She looked up from her piece for the school paper, not due for two weeks but she liked to make sure at least her journalism work was well done, as one of the two blue armchairs to her left whirred into motion. He was home, and he was late. 

Drake Mallard was a master of stealth, an expert in disguise, an authority on tricks, but unfortunately for him he had taught Gosalyn everything he had up his sleeve. Gosalyn set aside her work, having already changed out of her Quiverwing Quack uniform from that evening’s patrol. After years of going back and forth on it, they decided that as long as her homework was done and there wasn’t a hockey game that weekend Quiverwing Quack was allowed to patrol the streets of St. Canard. Unfortunately for Drake, this had been one of those nights. 

“So, where were you tonight?” Gosalyn asked her father. Her tone not free of anger but definitely filled with concern. “I must’ve gone down every street in the city and I didn’t see you once. You took the Ratcatcher so I should’ve been able to see you from the air.”

Drake’s face was full of guilt. He couldn’t look her in the eye, though he knew that wouldn’t stop her from reading his face. 

“Oh, Dad,” Gosalyn’s voice wavered, “you didn’t...” She stepped forward to hug him. At fifteen years old she was almost as tall as him, probably would be if her forehead was as big. They held each other tight. 

“I just– I just miss him so much,” Drake’s voice broke, a couple tears breaking free and falling down his face. 

Gosalyn hugged her dad tighter, fighting back some of her own tears. “I do too, Dad. But we can’t try to see him. It’s too risky.”

“I know...” Drake pulled out of the hug, but kept an arm around his daughter. “Let’s make ourselves some hot chocolate before we go to bed,” Drake said in a false cheerfulness, trying to distance himself from his earlier vulnerability. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

Gosalyn searched her father’s face before answering. “Sounds great, Dad.” She picked up her work before moving towards the kitchen. 

Drake turned off the light as they left the living room. The glow of a nearby street lamp lit up a picture frame standing alone on a table near the window. It was an old photo from the first year they’d lived there. Drake had been balancing an eight year old Gosalyn on his shoulder when she had started to fall. The picture captured the exact moment she had been rebalanced by Launchpad McQuack.


	2. Chapter 2

Bentina Beakley had known Scrooge McDuck for a good portion of her adult life. She considered herself lucky that most of that time had been spent working alongside him when S.H.U.S.H. had deemed it necessary to ask the richest duck in the world for some assistance. It was only 12 years ago, after she became the sole guardian of her granddaughter, Webby Vanderquack, that she took up station as his house keeper. She had decided that a stable life with herself as a permanent presence in Webby’s life would be better for her granddaughter than one where she would be constantly shuffled to babysitters because she had been assigned another mission. That didn’t mean that Agent 22 was fully retired though. It just meant her missions were those of surveillance, except for the rare occasion when her past came to find her. 

About two years ago S.H.U.S.H. had contacted her to give her another mission in addition to keeping an eye out on any McDuck adventure that may connect to unresolved cases she was knowledgeable on. A former associate of one of their regular outside contractors was to become Mr. McDuck’s regular driver. And it would become Mrs. Beakley’s job to keep an eye on him. She was to give a monthly report on his wellbeing, and an immediate notification of any unusual behavior. S.H.U.S.H. sent her a character profile they had been building for the last five or so years, as well as a file on what they knew of what lead to this current situation. Beakley felt a pang of sympathy through her heart as she read over the file. Sometimes bad things happened to good people. And now it was her job to make sure they didn’t get worse. 

No amount of rereading the character profile would’ve prepared Mrs. Beakley for the full force that is Launchpad McQuack. First to take in was the height. It was rare that Bentina met a duck that matched her in height. A dog was more common, a falcon was quite standard, but a duck? More rare than an uncounted coin in the Money Bin. Before she knew it he was shaking her hand. 

“Launchpad McQuack! Nice to meet you! I’m everybody’s friend,” he said a little too loudly with a handshake that was more than a bit too rough. 

“Mrs. Bentina Beakley.” Mrs. Beakley removed her hand from his grasp and began to stretch it out. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. McQuack. I trust you found the manor easily.”

“Please, call me Launchpad. Mr. McQuack is my father. And yeah! It was pretty easy as soon as I got to the hill. Only one road up.” He grinned at her. His enthusiasm was numbing. 

“Good,” Mrs. Beakley continued, keeping her tone even and professional. “As Mr. McDuck’s driver you will be in charge of getting him from his home here at McDuck Manor to his work place at the Money Bin. As well as anywhere else he may wish to stop.” She gestured towards the structure, easily seen even if they weren’t at the top of a small mountain. “There are many alternate routes should you find yourself blocked by traffic.”

“Um, you wouldn’t happen to have any maps of the city on hand,” Launchpad interrupted. “I’m not too familiar with navigating cities. I’ve lived out in the country for most of my life. The town I’m from only has two main roads. I’ve stopped over in a few cities but they were just that, stops.”

Mrs. Beakley knew his confession wasn’t accurate, but it was accurate to what he knew. “Of course. I also understand you’ll be needing a place to stay.”

Launchpad nodded. 

“Mr. McDuck has room in his main garage for an additional tenant. There is a working refrigerator and washing machine in the garage, as well as a nearby bathroom you can use. There is an upstairs loft space in the garage and you may customize the space how you’d like as long as it doesn’t intrude on the limousine’s space or cause any damage to the area. Any questions you may have can be addressed to me.”

Mrs. Beakley had barely finished her sentence before Launchpad pulled her in for a hug. “Thanks, Mrs. B!” He punctuated this with a back slap before pulling away. “You know this reminds me of something.”

Mrs. Beakley waited with baited breath. 

“It reminds me of when I decided to strike out on my own but ended up living in the airplane hangar my folks own,” he laughed with this admission. “I was a little embarrassed but my parents were glad I wasn’t going too far. My sister too.”

Mrs. Beakley relaxed and gave Launchpad a small smile. “Yes, it is nice to have family close by. Let me help you to your new room.”

And Mrs. Beakley continued to keep an eye on him. She kept up with her monthly reports. Everything seemed normal. No changes in Launchpad’s demeanor, sudden or explainable. He was consistent and stable. His driving a little reckless, but Scrooge always made it home in one piece and Launchpad kept busy fixing up the limousine so it would be ready in the morning. 

Then the nephews arrived. Mrs. Beakley knew that spending more time with his family was good for Scrooge McDuck but she was unsure if it would be good for Launchpad McQuack. S.H.U.S.H. had sent him her way partially because of her experience but also because it was a low adrenaline, low risk environment. Sure there was the occasional break in attempted by the Beagle Boys either here or at the Money Bin, but any attempt made at the manor was quickly taken care of by the same hands that had accomplished many a mission for S.H.U.S.H., her hands. The Money Bin had it’s own cast of characters to deal with any troubles there. So really overall it should’ve been a nice and calm environment for him. 

Until a dragon burst through the spare garage bringing back the chaos that tended to follow Scrooge McDuck. 

Despite the change in the tone of the environment S.H.U.S.H. wanted to keep Launchpad under her eye. And while she couldn’t go on every adventure Mr. McDuck had with the whole gang, she made sure to catch up with Launchpad over some hot chocolate in the kitchen. At first she had tried to give him coffee or tea, but he said the hot chocolate just felt right. He had never been good at handling stimulants. And this is where she found him. Stool pulled up to the kitchen island, staring into the empty mug in his hands. His face was deep in thought as he studied the inside of his mug. He didn’t look up when she entered. 

Mrs. Beakley set the kettle back on the stove and grabbed a teacup and teabag for herself. The kettle whistled fairly quickly, telling her that Launchpad had been in here for about fifteen minutes. She poured herself a cup, placed in her teabag, stirred in one sugar, and pulled up a stool to the island as she let it steep. She didn’t say anything. She knows he’ll speak when he’s ready. He always does. 

Mrs. Beakley waited a couple minutes and took out the teabag, carefully placing it on the saucer. She blew gently on the tea before taking a sip. Launchpad finally started to speak. 

“Do you ever feel like you’ve forgotten something important?” Launchpad said this without looking at her, still staring into the bottom of his mug. 

Mrs. Beakley set down her cup. She could hear the fear in Launchpad’s voice. The slight warble in his tone as he asked the question. It sounded as if it’d been weighing on him a while now. Possibly since his exposure to the magic Magica de Spell wielded against them. Mrs. Beakley didn’t know much about the intricacies of magic work but S.H.U.S.H. had their own intel, intel that led them to believe exposure to more magic could cause his condition to worsen. “Can you be more specific, Launchpad?” Her voice was firm in her inquiry, trying to disguise that this was a question she had been on the lookout for since she’d known him.

“I know I’ve got some small gaps in my memory,” Launchpad was trying to deflect worry. “You don’t get out of the number of crashes I’ve been in without them. This feels different though. It’s not just time surrounding a crash.” Launchpad looked up at Mrs. Beakley. “The other day, Dewey asked me what I did before I started working for Mr. McDee.”

“You lived out on your family’s property and fixed airplanes and participated in their air shows,” Mrs. Beakley stated like it was a memorized line. 

“Thats what I told him, but something felt off about the answer. Like there was something else in between. Something my brain knows but is just out of reach. Like a hot pretzel trapped behind glass. You know it’s there but all you get is whatever smell gets through the vents.”

Mrs. Beakley arched an eyebrow at this colorful metaphor. She brought her drink to her mouth, taking a sip to give her extra time to craft a suitable response. “Are you sure you didn’t just forget to take your hormones again?”

Launchpad frowned as he gave it a moments thought. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I remember marking down doing the shot.” His voice was slightly unsure and Beakley knew that he’d be double checking his calendar later. 

“Well then, Launchpad. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not quite old enough where memory loss has become a problem for me. I could still tell you information from S.H.U.S.H. mission debriefings forty years ago if it wasn’t extremely classified.” Mrs. Beakley gave a little laugh at her own joke. “It’s probably just a nagging feeling that you should call your mother.”

Launchpad gave her a weak smile. “Yeah, maybe. It has been a couple of weeks since we got together for my birthday and Yom Kippur.” Launchpad got up and rinsed out his cup, placing it in the dishwasher.

“I’ll take care of the kettle,” Mrs. Beakley said as Launchpad moved to pour it out. 

“Thanks, Mrs. B!” Launchpad gave her a full smile, but it quickly faded as he left the room. Their conversation obviously had not reassured him in full.

Mrs. Beakley let out a slow sigh as he left the room. She was going to have to call headquarters about this.


	3. Chapter 3

The pursuit of the treasure on the map found in the idol head had been unfulfilling in the worst way. It had only lead them to a dead end. After running into a mudslide, several cave ins, and an unruly pack of wild boars, even Scrooge decided it’d be best to put a temporary hold on this adventure and regroup after some extra time spent on the research and a reevaluation of necessary supplies. But with such an anticlimactic finish the Duck family was getting fidgety and restless in the belly of the Sunchaser on the return flight to Duckburg.

“Ugh...” Dewey groaned, flopping onto Huey’s back, acting as dead weight on his cross legged brother. “That was the worst. It wasn’t even real fun, just mosquito bites and dirt.”

Annoyed, Huey stood, letting Dewey unsuccessfully scramble to keep himself from face planting. “If you had used the bug spray I had recommended it would’ve just been dirt.”

“Yeah, well I can’t believe there were two cave ins. Two! And we didn’t even get trapped. Just blocked off...” Louie trailed off like he had the pieces but just needed to put them together. Huey, Dewey, and Webby looked at him expectantly. “Forget it. I got nothing,” Louie said crossing his arms.

“Maybe we just missed something on the map. Oh! Or on the idol!” Webby exclaimed.

“Too bad somebody won’t let it leave his desk,” Huey said with a pointed glare at Louie.

“Hey! It’s my treasure. Scrooge gave it to me for our own heartfelt moment. Don’t get mad at me just because you burned yours back in the marina.”

Huey rolled his eyes.

From the cockpit Scrooge could see the shallow bickering unfold. He felt strange in his stomach. Was it guilt? It’d been a while so he wasn’t sure. But still he turned to Launchpad. “Do the kids sound upset to you?”

“Maybe a little, Mr. McDee. They’re probably just disappointed and itchy after all those mosquitoes.” Launchpad took his hands off the steering wheel and put a foot on it instead as he turned his whole body to look at the young ducks. “They probably just need to do something that’s guaranteed fun!”

“The wheel, McQuack!” Scrooge barked as the plane started to dip.

Launchpad scrambled to turn around as the plane began to descend. He managed to regain control before all their altitude was lost. “Oh hey!” Launchpad pointed with one hand at the upcoming shoreline. “I know that place. That’s one of the best boardwalks I’ve ever been to. The kids are sure to have fun there. There’s a bunch of cool rides, tasty restaurants, an arcade, an aquarium, some cool t-shirt stands.” Launchpad was about to list even more features on his fingers when Scrooge hurriedly put his hands back on the wheel.

“Sounds great, lad. Let’s just try to get there with a smooth landing.”

They landed with a small splash a little ways down the boardwalk from the amusements. That’s when Scrooge saw the sign.

“SIXTEEN DOLLARS. For a ticket?!” The shock and appall in Scrooge’s voice raised a collective groan from the children.

“That’s just the adult tickets Mr. McDee,” Launchpad hurriedly corrected him. “You and the kids are only eight dollars a piece.”

“This is highway robbery!”

“Time to pack it up guys,” Louie said nonchalantly. “Looks like Scrooge doesn’t want to spend time with us anymore. If it doesn’t benefit him we can forget it.”

The other three ducklings drooped their heads and made to follow Louie back to the plane as a stunned Scrooge sputtered, at a loss for words.

“I’ll pay for my own ticket,” Launchpad chimed in.

This was the thing Scrooge needed to hear.

“Kids, get back here! We’re going into this den of thieves.”

“You don’t really believe what you said back there about Scrooge, do you?” Webby asked Louie as they passed through the gate.

“Eh,” Louie shrugged. 

 

* * *

 

First they had decided to go on the bigger of the two wooden roller coasters the boardwalk boasted.

“Reminds me of your flying, McQuack.”

“Aww, thanks Mr. McDee!”

Then came the carnival games. Webby’s precision aim won her a huge sword horse plushie that Launchpad gladly carried. Then they went to the touch tank. Then they ate at the pirate themed restaurant. Scrooge refused to order something for himself, insisting that people were leaving perfectly edible portions on other tables. Then they found something that hadn’t been there the last time Launchpad had walked down the boardwalk.

“Oh oh oh! A haunted house!” Webby exclaimed as soon as it came into view. “Can we go in there next? I’ve always wanted to fight a zombie!”

“Webby, you can’t fight the monsters in a haunted house. They’re paid actors. They’re just there to scare you,” Huey explained.

“Oh,” Webby said, the excitement in her voice fading a little. “Still would be cool to see if they can scare a group of top notch adventurers like ourselves!”

Webby led the way into the haunted house. Dewey turned behind him. “You coming, Launchpad?”

Launchpad gave him a sheepish grin. “I don’t really do good in haunted houses. Besides don’t want to get any monster slime on Webby’s sword horse,” he said, giving the unicorn a pat on the head. “I’ll wait for you guys out here.”

“Ok! See you soon,” Dewey said running after his family.

Launchpad sighed in relief and walked to a nearby table to wait. He still remembered when he had gone to the haunted house his little sister, Loopey, had organized as a school fundraiser. When it was his turn to go through, he had gotten so scared at the first person who jumped out he reflexively punched them in the face. Unfortunately that monster had been played by Loopey’s best friend. Loopey didn’t speak to him until the black eye healed.

As soon as he sat down at the table, Launchpad immediately shot back up. He turned to see that he had sat on someone’s wallet. It was incredibly average looking. A standard folded wallet, medium brown, worn around the edges. He opened it to check the drivers license. Drake Mallard, St. Canard, Calisota. The ID picture was a grumpy looking duck with a large forehead and overlong cheek feathers. He reminded him of someone but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Launchpad quickly scanned the nearby crowd. “Drake Mallard!” he called out. He saw a duck in the distance stop and look around. Bingo. Launchpad hurried over to him, Webby’s giant unicorn in tow. 

 

* * *

 

Drake Mallard was startled when he heard his name being called in the boardwalk amusement park. He was hundreds of miles from home and even worse he was on an assignment. Camille Chameleon had been spotted around here and S.H.U.S.H. had asked him to bring her in after they discovered evidence linking her to the recent wave of missing reptiles.

He was startled again to find what looked like a giant unicorn plushie coming his way. He was startled a third time when he recognized the voice behind the overlarge monstrosity.

“Mr. Mallard, you left your wallet at that table back there.”

A hand reached out from behind the toy, holding his wallet.

“Thanks, uh,” Drake said, taking the wallet, hoping that the hand didn’t belong who he thought it did, but hoping even harder that it did.

“Launchpad McQuack!” said the unicorn. “Oh wait, hold on.” Launchpad shifted the plushie to his side, revealing his face.

Drake felt his stomach drop.

Drake gave himself a moment to get into character. He was a random duck who had just had his wallet return by a man who was a complete stranger with no connection to him whatsoever. That was it. No complicated histories here.

“Thank you for returning my wallet, Mr. McQuack, was it? I suppose you’ll want a reward,” Drake tried to muster up the same tone he used with his irritating neighbor, Herb. He was mostly successful.

“You can call me Launchpad! Mr. McQuack was my father.” Launchpad’s voice was bright and unaffected by the surly tone Drake had used. “And no reward is necessary. This is just part of being a hero.” He beamed at Drake and Drake remembered a thousand other times he’d recieved that smile. “I wouldn’t say no to some company though! My group just went in the haunted house but I’m on unicorn duty so I couldn’t join them.”

Launchpad patted the unicorn stuffed animal but Drake knew it was only a partial truth. Launchpad could never handle creepy, something Gosalyn had exploited with no end. He knew that he should say no. He was on a mission, granted Camille had never been on the world threatening level of super villainy. No. Drake steeled himself. By continuing to talk to Launchpad it threatened everything. He’d made up his mind.

Drake opened his mouth ready to politely decline, but then he saw Launchpad’s face again. He was beaming at him again, with the hint of a plea in his open and honest face. Drake gave in. “I guess talking for ten minutes couldn’t hurt.”

 

* * *

 

Drake found himself back at the table he had vacated only moments before. His stomach was in knots. The guilt fighting the comfort of being back in Launchpad’s presence after so long. He did his best to squash down the guilt.

“So, I saw on your license you’re from St. Canard. I’ve heard that’s a rough city,” Launchpad said making polite conversation.

“Oh, it’s not as bad as the statistics make it out to be.” Drake bit back a comment about underreported superheroes he’d normally mention when asked about his beloved city.

“Heh, yeah it always seems worse from the outside. Folks back home always gasp when I tell them I’m living out of Duckburg these days.” Launchpad gave a small chuckle. “Though I’m sure any city bigger than ten thousand seems daunting to them.”

“Oh, are you from a small town?” Drake asked this, already knowing the answer.

“Small enough to have only one high school!” Launchpad laughed. “My grandma always says it’d be all McQuacks living there if we didn’t learn how to fly planes.”

“Must be nice to have a job that let’s you travel.”

“Sure is!” Launchpad beamed again. “What about you? You’re pretty far from St. Canard right now. Is it business or pleasure?”

“Business,” Drake replied without thinking.

“Must be a pretty cool job to require a trip to this boardwalk.”

“That’s the wild world of interior decorating for you.” Drake could’ve cut out his own tongue the moment he said it. It was his go to fake career, but he didn’t think even Launchpad would buy it as a reason for his trip.

“Huh,” Launchpad said with a thoughtful look. Drake shifted nervously as Launchpad studied him. “I guess you just have one of those faces then.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You just look familiar. I thought maybe I’d seen you in the paper or something. But there’s not a lot of news stories written about interior decorators. Though I might just be reading the wrong paper.” Launchpad rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Drake was frozen. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have done this. He should’ve taken the wallet and left. Maybe given him a handshake when he refused the reward. He should be looking for Camille and stopping whatever reptile themed heist was a threat to public safety. He should– he should’ve replied because now he’d been silent for way too long.

“Oh, well,” Drake finally forced out. “You have to get a TV deal in order to really have your face known outside of the design world.”

Just then a loud group exited the haunted house. Drake looked up and made eye contact with Scrooge McDuck. The billionaire narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, hey, that’s my group! Dewey! Mr. McDee!” Launchpad waved at them.

“I should go,” Drake said, barely audible over the noise of the boardwalk.

By the time Launchpad had registered that he said something Drake was already a limousine’s length away. “Bye...” Launchpad said with a slight frown. The frown was quickly wiped off his face as Dewey and Webby jumped on him, starting to tell him about the horrors of the haunted house with input from Huey and Louie.

Scrooge kept quiet, still looking down the boardwalk where the duck had disappeared into the crowd, with a contemplative look on his face. Something was off about the whole trip. He could feel it. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Daaaaad!” Gosalyn Mallard called, her voice carrying through the whole house.

“What, Gosalyyyyyn?” Drake mimicked the same emphasis she used. He was looking over his face in the upstairs bathroom. When did the bags under his eyes get that big.

“Your phone is ringing!” Gosalyn was getting close enough for Drake to hear the phone she was carrying ring out.

“Then answer before it goes to voicemail!”

“It’s your work phone!”

Drake rushed out of the bathroom and scrambled to take the phone from Gosalyn.

“Darkwing Duck, the masked mallard, watchful knight of St. Canard,” Drake answered the phone. He shooed Gosalyn away as he walked towards his bedroom. Gosalyn rolled her eyes and went back downstairs. She was in the middle of watching a hockey game anyways.

“Darkwing,” hissed the voice on the other end.

“Agent 22.” Drake braced himself for a lecture.

“Do you know your actions have consequences?” Her sharp tone pierced Drake’s head. No doubt Scrooge said something to her about his brief appearance in the boardwalk.

“I dropped my wallet—”

“And then Launchpad found it and then you sat down and talked with him. You broke one of the key objectives of this mission, not to mention the carelessness of carrying a personal wallet on a stealth mission.” She spat the words out like they would burn her if she held them in too long.

“What about your failed objective of keeping tabs on where McDuck has Launchpad fly so S.H.U.S.H. doesn’t send me on an assignment in the area!” Drake snapped back. The blame game was one of Drake’s favorite distracting tactics. It hardly ever worked on 22 though.

There was an audible tired sigh. Drake could see in his mind’s eye Agent 22 pushing her fingers under her glasses to rub her eyes. “It was an impromptu stop. It wasn’t even cleared. You were already there by the time they landed. Grizzlikof decided to let your mission continue and let probability and your dedication to the mission be the fail safe.”

Drake didn’t have anything to say to that. He could feel the shame on the back of his head. The ball had been in his court and he fumbled it.

There was another moment before 22 said, her voice low and mournful, “He always has underestimated matters of the heart.”

The sympathy in her voice was too much for Drake. He brought a hand to his face trying to block his tear ducts with his fingers. “How is he?” his voice cracked.

“He’s healthy and happy, but I’m worried about him, Darkwing.” Agent 22 paused before speaking again, steeling herself for what was to come. “I think he’s starting to remember, or at least know he’s forgotten something. And seeing you again, talking to you, that’s only going to make it more obvious that something is wrong. That boy doesn’t forget a face. For pity’s sake he can tell the triplets apart and they’re identical.”

Drake’s eyes met the photo of Launchpad he still kept on his bedside table. He quickly looked away. “I’m sorry...”

“Launchpad’s going to be the one who needs an apology if he remembers,” Agent 22 said sternly. “Not that you’d get a chance to give it to him. Morgana’s spell was only a bandaid for a much bigger problem. Dr. Bellum has made progress in understanding the Negaverse matter Launchpad was attacked by but she’s been unable to find a way to remove it that isn’t a full memory wipe or—”

“Please, don’t say it.”

“Death.”

Drake felt like he was going to throw up.

“You needed to hear it. You needed to be reminded of the risks.”

“Don’t you think I know them? Don’t you think I tell myself them every day to keep me from going back to him?” Drake’s voice echoed in his own room. He was sure that this cry of pain had been heard through the whole house. Agent 22 gave no indication of being moved by this on the other end of the phone. Drake took a deep breath, leveling his voice. “We don’t know the full effect Steelbeak and Negaduck’s attack had on Launchpad. S.H.U.S.H. was only able to do scans on him in a comatose state. It could be different in his active mind. He could—”

“Darkwing.” Agent 22 cut him off. “You have to remember your responsibilities to St. Canard, to S.H.U.S.H., to the world.” Her voice softened, “To Launchpad.”

Drake’s eyes went back to his photo. He held Launchpad’s still gaze.

“Because we both know what choice Launchpad would make if it came down to it. He wouldn’t like it. I don’t like it. But he would make that sacrifice and I’m prepared to help him make it if I have to. Don’t endanger him.”

Agent 22 waited for his response. Drake couldn’t say anything. He was paralyzed by her words.

“Goodnight, Darkwing.”

There was a click, and she was gone. 


	5. Chapter 5

“I was supposed to live the rest of my life with you.”

“I know.”

Launchpad woke with a start, crashing onto the floor, his hammock dumping him out. He was covered in sweat. His heart was racing; not an uncommon result from a crash for him, but he knew it was because of his dream. 

Slowly, he got to his feet with only the lights from the stars on his ceiling illuminating the garage loft. He stepped in something wet. He reached for his phone. The light from the screen revealed that his fall had knocked over his water cup. Launchpad sighed and grabbed the towel from the bench press, cleaning up the mess. Luckily the glass was still intact. But it was time for a refill. 

As Launchpad made the short walk to the nearby bathroom, readjusting his shirt as it began to stick to his sweat, his mind was desperately trying to remember the dream that had awoken him. The more he grabbed at the details, the more they faded from his mind. He knew Darkwing Duck had been in it. That much he was sure of. That wasn’t even that unusual. With how much time Launchpad spent rewatching the show Darkwing Duck had been a familiar focus for his nighttime viewing over the years. 

But this time it had felt different. Something about this one had shaken him. So much so that he could see a small tremor in his hand as he refilled the water cup in the bathroom sink. Launchpad quickly downed the glass and poured himself another before making his way back to the garage loft. 

When he got there he hesitated at the stairs leading up to his hammock. The walk to get water had done nothing to calm the beating of his heart. And though he was tired, his whole body felt charged, as if he had actually experienced whatever events had unfolded in the now muddled dream. Perhaps it would be better to try to sleep on the couch tonight. At least this way he was less likely to knock over the water again if he crashed to the floor. 

Decision made, Launchpad settled in on the couch and turned on the small TV. The VHS tape started automatically. Launchpad turned down the volume to barely audible as the Darkwing Duck theme played. Launchpad closed his eyes, hoping the soft noises would lull him back to sleep. 

He had no such luck, and spent the rest of the night chasing sleep. 


	6. Chapter 6

It was what Drake and Gosalyn called Monster Monday in the Mallard household. Every Monday Morgana Macawber would come by with a dinner she prepared herself. Sometimes it was a new dish she wanted to try out at her restaurant, sometimes it was a classic that she had added a new twist too. But no matter what it was Drake was glad the Muddlefoots would help take care of the leftovers. 

After they decided to permanently end their stint of on and off again dating, Drake and Morgana were able to finally become friends. Drake was glad for this, because even though they had never been able to make things work for more than a month at a time, Morgana and Gosalyn got along beautifully. 

Drake watched with warmth in his heart as Gosalyn and Morgana talked. Morgana’s more morbid sense of humor matching well with Gosalyn’s dry wit as they caught each other up on their weeks. Gosalyn raved about a horror flick that she had watched. Morgana was the only one Gosalyn knew who took a genuine interest in the genre. Honker could still barely keep his eyes open. Drake’s own interest had waned with the switch from practical effects to cgi. And Launchpad–

Drake paused, returning his focus to picking out the least monstery bits in his food. Launchpad. He had actually seen Launchpad and talked to him, for the first time in over two years. Drake sighed, remembering his conversation with Beakley the night before. He had to tell them. 

“So, I talked to Launchpad this weekend,” Drake tried to say casually, not daring to meet their eyes. 

The natural lull in conversation that had occurred became a deafening silence. 

It broke with Morgana’s fork clattering to the floor. Cloesly followed by Gosalyn practically shouting, “WHAT?”

Drake quickly explained what happened. How he’d been sitting outside the haunted house waiting for the new scanning watch S.H.U.S.H. had come out with to pinpoint Camille’s location in the boardwalk. How he’d dropped his wallet only for it to be returned by Launchpad. How he’d given in to weakness and sat and talked with him. How Launchpad had said he was familiar. And how finally Drake had left when the Duck family showed up. 

Gosalyn got out of her seat and ran around the table to give her dad a hug. Drake knew as he hugged her back it was for her benefit too. 

“Oh, Drake...” Morgana said softly. 

“It was stupid, and reckless, and might endanger everyone,” Drake chastised himself. “He knew he’d seen my face before. That’s not supposed to be happening.”

“Well,” Morgana said with some hesitation in her voice. “It is possible that going on adventures with Scoorge McDuck is reminding him of his nights as your sidekick. Which could weaken the spell’s hold on him. Plus if he’s been rewatching his tape collection of your old show...” Morgana trailed off. 

Drake groaned. This wouldn’t be the first time his ego and selfishness had gotten them into trouble. Just the first time it threatened everyone else too. “I just... he had had the tapes before I met him. I didn’t want him to have nothing of me.”

Gosalyn squeezed him tighter in her hug. “Is there a way to strengthen the spell again?” Gosalyn asked, hopefully. 

“I might be able to, but memory spells are dangerous and fickle. The one I originally used was pretty risky. Especially since it isn’t even my field of expertise. I specialize in Transfiguration. I only took a year of Advanced Charms in college.” Morgana sighed. “If only S.H.U.S.H. had more confidence in magic. I’ve been looking for something to safely purge the Negaverse from Launchpad’s brain. But there’s no precedent for it. If I was able to actually work with Dr. Bellum, we might be able to come up with something. But that bull-headed bear they put in charge of this situation won’t let me in the lab.” Morgana’s hands shook in anger. “Something about a protocol for dealing with contractors who have a record.”

“But Dad, you’ve been arrested tons of times!”

“I’ve never gone to trial, sweetheart. And half of those times I was on an undercover mission anyways.” Drake glanced up and caught a nasty glare from Morgana. “Anyways, maybe with the way things have progressed and a good word from Agent 22, we can get you in that lab. Grizzlikof may not value my input but Agent 22 has always been held highly in his mind.”

“Yes, that could work...” Morgana looked off into the distance, her face flushed at the mention of Agent 22.

Drake felt some weight removed from his chest now that they had a plan. He gave Gosalyn one last hug before getting up. “Ok! Who’s ready for dessert?”


End file.
